


La Petite Sirène

by Doitlikeagreaser



Series: Les Mis Disney AUs [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Background Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Bossuet's Terrible Luck, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Disney References, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypochondria, Hypochondriac Joly, Inspired by Disney, Inspired by the Little Mermaid, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Matchmaker Courfeyrac, Minor Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/éponine Thénardier, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire, Minor Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire, Multi, Musichetta-centric, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Pining Courfeyrac, Poor Combeferre, Poor Joly, Queen Musichetta, Titanic References, courferre, enjoltaire - Freeform, jbm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitlikeagreaser/pseuds/Doitlikeagreaser
Summary: Musichetta has lived her entire life under the sea with her father, sister, and companions; her only connection to the world above being the items she has collected over the years. One faithful day, her paths cross with two human princes, who are searching for the thing they feel is missing from their lives. How far will she go to earn what's missing in hers?
Relationships: Bahorel & Feuilly (Les Misérables), Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly & Bossuet Laigle & Musichetta, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire, Musichetta & Combeferre (Les Misérables), Musichetta & Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Musichetta & Jean Prouvaire, Musichetta & Jean Valjean
Series: Les Mis Disney AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522448
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, I'm posting this for my wonderful friend once again! Feedback is much appreciated as always, but please keep it positive and constructive! And hey: thanks in advance.

King Jean Valjean was the king of all the seas and the mermaids and mermen who lived in them. He had two daughters, one named Cosette, whom he got on very well with, and Musichetta, who he tried to get along with, but he had no idea how to handle her wandering spirits. She always went out, hunting for things, and had a strange obsession with human objects. She just wanted to know everything about them. 

The two girls both had their mother’s gift of beautiful singing voices, but only Cosette really wanted to sing. Valjean had tried to pull Musichetta into singing as well, hoping to curb her dangerous habit of going closer to humans, so he got the court composer to write the two girls a beautiful duet. 

He sat in his throne as Combeferre, the court composer, organized his sheet music yet again. Combeferre was very nervous. He had never performed a piece in front of His Majesty before, having been hired recently. He signaled for Cosette to come out and begin her part of the song. Musichetta was supposed to come in later. 

Cosette came out at her time, but instead of singing, went to Combeferre and whispered in his ear. He stiffened, looking around frantically. Cosette then began singing her part as Combeferre searched around the stage for the missing princess. 

Valjean signaled to the orchestra to stop as Cosette was hitting a high note. “Is there a problem, Combeferre?” 

“Your daughter… she isn’t here,” Combeferre stammered, dropping all his papers on the floor. 

Valjean, instead of panicking, rubbed his forehead. “What am I going to do with that child?”

* * *

“Come on, Courfeyrac! Keep up!” Musichetta called to her best friend. Courferyac, however, did not speed up. He was rather lazy today, having wanted to see Combeferre’s show. He liked him a lot, but the composer didn’t seem to notice him any more than anyone else. It didn’t help that Comferre was a crab and Courferyac was a blazingly yellow fish. 

“Couldn’t we do this some other day? And just hang out in the grotto if we’re going to do something?” He groaned, dragging his fins. 

“But this ship’s in perfect condition! I mean, it looks like it dove off the side of those things they call bridges, but it has so much stuff in it, and we need to see Gavroche about it,” she pleaded. 

Courferyac sighed. There were two people he could never say no to--Musichetta wanting to go exploring, and Combeferre wanting his help moving equipment around. Besides, he liked Gavroche. “Fine.”

Inside the ship, they found a very small triton, like what Musichetta’s father had to control the weather; and a gold necklace, which Musichetta tried on in front of a cracked mirror. “What do you think? No?” 

“Nice,” Courfeyrac said with an approving nod, then tugged out a dress. “I would wear this. No lie.”

When they had scoured it for items they didn’t already have, they swam up to the surface. Musichetta took a deep breath of the fresh air. She loved being in the open air, even though she was always cold when they went up. 

“Gavroche! We have some stuff to ask you about!” Courfeyrac called, and a young seagull flew in and nearly smacked Musichetta in the head when landing. “Wow, you were closer than I thought! What do you have for me to investigate today?”

They lifted up the miniature triton and and an odd round thing. Gavroche studied the triton and said, “This here is a dinglehopper. It’s wonderful for doing your hair. Just put in, give a twist and a pull, and you’ll look just like them.” He handed Musichetta the dinglehopper and picked up the roundish tube. “This is a device called a thingamajigger. They invented it to entertain themselves, all you do is blow across the top and it makes noise.” 

Courfeyrac took the thingamajigger and blew across the top, but only water spouted. “Well, I think this thing needs to be dried out a bit,” he snorted, “But it probably works.”

Musichetta had started to comb her hair with the dinglehopper, then thought, _it plays music--the concert!_ “Oh no! The concert was today! We need to get home!” She gathered up the items and thanked Gavroche, then the pair took off swimming as fast as they could to the castle. 

* * *

When the two of them got back, Valjean was sitting on his throne, still rubbing his forehead. 

Musichetta raced into the room, shouting, “I am so sorry, father, I completely forgot the show was today, I’ll make it up to you I promise, I’m so sorry…”

Combeferre was sitting in the corner of the room, crying silently. “This was supposed to be my big break,” he sniffed quietly, “I was just trying to broaden my horizons from science.”

“Oh, it’ll be alright, I’m sure the score was perfect,” Courfeyrac said assuringly, trying to maneuver his fin over Combeferre’s, but his target moved. 

“Musichetta, this is the third time you’ve been missing. Where have you been?” Valjean scolded, getting off his throne and approaching her. 

“I was just looking around for some things. I just forgot about the concert, I meant to come,” Musichetta explained, hanging her head. She always felt a little bad about not showing up to these performances. Her father really wanted to hear her sing. 

“Yeah, we just went up to talk to Gavroche and find out what that three-tined thingy-hopper was the humans--I mean the--sharks used,” Courfeyrac stammered, and Combeferre stared at him until he stopped talking.

“You went to the surface _again?_ ” Valjean exclaimed, “You know I don’t want you there, it’s dangerous.”

“But I’m eighteen! I know what to do if humans come! I’m not going to get hurt!” Musichetta replied, getting irritated. It seemed as though her father didn’t really understand her. 

“I don’t want you to go up there again, understood?” Valjean said finally. 

Musichetta nodded, knowing that he couldn't stop her from examining the things she already had. 

Once she had left the room with Courfeyrac on her tail, Valjean sunk into his chair. “I can run a kingdom but I can’t parent to save my life.” He turned to Combeferre, who was organizing his music in alphabetical order. “You’re a young person, Combeferre. What do you think I should do?”

“Well,” Combeferre said, “I think the best way to stop this is to give her a good role model her age. Someone who follows the rules and doesn’t wander around. A down-to-earth person, you might say.”

“You know, Combeferre, that is a very good idea,” Valjean said. “You’re about her age, aren’t you? Why don’t you spend some time with her? Try to change her mind.”

“Me? Didn’t you want me to confer with Cosette about her vibrato or… something?” was the shaking response. Quite honestly, Combeferre was a bit intimidated by Musichetta and how she could just swim up to the king and tell him what she thought. And spending time with her meant time with Courfeyrac. While that wasn’t really a bad thing, it was like his mind would fuzz a little around him, and he wasn’t sure he liked that much. 

“Her vibrato can wait,” Valjean said, nudging the crab out the door towards Musichetta’s room, “My other daughter needs to be stopped.”

* * *

After the discussion with her father, Musichetta had retreated to her grotto, where she kept all of her human objects that she had collected over the years. She had all sorts of things; gadgets, gizmos, whozits, whatzits, thingamabobs, and on and on. 

“I know it’s too much to ask of anyone, but I just wish I could be up on land, just for one day. With these fins, you can’t walk around or dance or anything like that. I just wish I could be part of their world.”

“Question,” Courfeyrac said, “If you went up there, what would you ask them?”

“What’s a fire? Why does it burn? Is this actually how these things work? How do you learn to walk?” she listed off on her fingers. “I have a solid list somewhere around here.”

Combeferre snuck in as they were talking, slipping carefully between the objects, when a necklace floated out and tripped him, causing him to fall and make far more noise than intended. 

Musichetta and Courfeyrac jumped in surprise. “What are you doing here, Combeferre?” she asked, trying to cover as much items as she possibly could. 

“Your father wanted me to look after you,” Combeferre explained, feeling a little hurt that Musichetta’s face fell, “You know if your father knew about all this stuff, he wouldn’t be happy.”

Courfeyrac was in front of him in a second, fins on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes, begging him, “ _Please_ don’t tell him! He’s going to get so mad at both of us!”

Combeferre took one look into Courfeyrac’s big, puppy-dog eyes, then sighed. “Alright, I won’t tell him. There isn’t any harm in what you already have. Actually, speaking of that, there’s no harm in anything down here.”

Musichetta rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to convince me not to want to go on land?”

“No, not at all,” Combeferre said, not even he was sure if he was lying, “I’m just saying, look at all the stuff we have down here. Water, coral, fish, crabs, other merfolk of various genders--”

This was getting boring. Courfeyrac was interested, probably for the same reason he had wanted to come to the concert--just for Combeferre, nothing else to it--but Musichetta was feeling like she was going to die of boredom. It was at this moment, she happened to lean back and see a silhouette above. 

She leaned over to Courfeyrac and whispered, “Keep him occupied, I’m going to check out that boat.”

Courfeyrac nodded, not really hearing her. He was just in a complete daze, staring dreamily. Combeferre didn’t even notice until she was long gone.

“Someone needs to nail her to the ground,” he sighed sadly. 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Musichetta got up to the surface and took a deep breath. The boat was setting off lots of sparkling lights, shooting them up into the sky and disappearing. She began to get closer, then from behind a loud _squawk_ startled her. 

“Hey, Musichetta!” Gavroche shouted, landing on the side of the boat. “What are you doing?”

Musichetta gasped, then shook her head. “Will everyone stop popping up behind me? I’m trying to spy on the humans. And you’re making a lot of noise”

“Sorry, didn’t know,” Gavroche said, but it was probably unheard, because something caught Musichetta’s eye. Or rather, some _ones_ caught her eye. On the boat, there were two young men, most likely about her age, dancing around with each other, while others looked on. One of the young men had short brown hair, and the other was bald. They were all smiling and having a grand time, other than one, a tall, blond man who looked like he was about to heave over the side. 

“Grantaire…” he groaned, holding his stomach, “I don’t feel good at all.” 

“You’ll be fine, Enjolras,” the man addressed as Grantaire assured him, putting his arms around him. “We’re heading back to shore in a while, I think.”

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Musichetta whispered to Gavroche. 

“Uh, no,” Gavroche replied, looking at the large black dog running around everyone and panting. 

“I’m not talking about that one, I’m talking about those two dancing over there,” Musichetta corrected him, pointing to the young fellows twirling around. The seagull shrugged and headed off to find something more interesting to do than people-watch people.

The two men Musichetta saw finally stopped dancing, and everyone went back to whatever they had been doing before. One of the fellows, Joly, guided the other, Bossuet, up to an area of the deck where they were alone.

Joly rested his elbows on the railing. “Bossuet, you know I care about you, right? More than anything?”

Bossuet nodded. “What's wrong?”

Joly sighed. “Do you ever feel like there's something... missing in our lives? In our relationship?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Bossuet agreed, “It's not that I don't love you, it's just... there's something that isn't there, but it should be. I don't know what it is.”

“There's a piece missing,” Joly decided, “And we need to find it.” he took out a telescope and peeked through it, then handed it to his partner. 

The pair watched the little orange cat named Feuilly walking along the railing with a mouse in his mouth, looking quite proud of himself. The pair's Newfoundland, Bahorel, was following him hopefully on the ground. Sometimes Feuilly would share a mouse with him. Feuilly thought Bahorel was alright, much bigger than him, and a dog, but that was fine.

Bossuet rested his head on his companion's shoulder, saying, “I think I'm lucky to have found at least this part, but when we find the other missing bit, it'll hit us like lightning.” As he said this, a loud crash of thunder growled from the sky. “You're kidding.”

Someone began yelling some kind of sailing directions that Musichetta didn’t understand, but the men seemed to, because they immediately began adjusting things on the sails and masts. 

But clearly someone did something wrong, because a flash came down from the sky and suddenly the main sail was on fire. _Well, that answered two of my questions._

The whole boat was now in a complete panic, trying to get the little boats, which the humans actually called lifeboats, down from where they were stored; then get everyone into the boats; and then get the boats down to the water all while making sure no one fell out of them. 

“Everyone in? Where's Feuilly?” Bossuet asked, looking around the boat he and Joly had gotten into.

“Bahorel's missing too,” Joly added nervously. Then, they all heard a bark coming from the flaming ship.

On the blazing boat, Bahorel was wandering around, trying to find the missing cat. He knew Feuilly was scared of the dark, and of lightning. He finally found him hiding under a fallen sail. Bahorel gently scooped Feuilly up in his mouth, then had to figure out how to get them both safely out.

Joly and Bossuet knew they had to get their pets off the boat, so they hopped out of the lifeboat--much to Enjolras and Grantaire's irritation--and swam over to the wreck. Once on board, they found Bahorel and--hoping that the lifeboat hadn't moved--pushed him off the wreck just as it was sinking. They heard him whining at them from below, so he had made it.

“This is such a weird way to die,” Bossuet said, holding onto Joly's arm in fear. “I don't want to die.”

“I think if we jump now, we're more likely to live than stay here,” Joly said uneasily. He turned to his friend and said, “You ready?”

Bossuet nodded and they hopped off into the abyss. Needless to say, this was not the best idea when the boat went into pieces as their feet left its deck. Instead of the water, they fell into the rubble from the ship.

Musichetta, who had a lot of experience with swimming in a storm, saw the whole thing happen, and without another thought went to rescue them. She found Joly, then had to hold onto him while finding Bossuet. She finally found him tangled in the ropes and pulled them both to shore; which was no easy task as there were two of them and one of her in a storm.

When she made it to shore, Gavroche fluttered down and landed next to her and the men. The princes were both unconscious and Musichetta had no idea how to tell if they were alive.

Gavroche lifted Bossuet's foot, saying, “Let's start by checking for a heartbeat… Nope, let's see the other one… Nope, both dead. Too bad, too, they seemed decent.”

Musichetta felt guilty about not getting to them in time. It seemed like they had been having so much fun up on the boat, dancing around; not knowing that in a few minutes, they would be lying dead on a beach in the middle of nowhere. Musichetta wasn’t even sure if they would’ve been able to have lived on this piece of land. 

“We could try candio-pulporary rescutation,” Gavroche suggested, giving Musichetta a spark of hope. He put his wings on Bossuet's hand and pushing up and down. “ _At first I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinking I couldn't live without you by my side. But then I spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong..._ ”

As he did this, Courfeyrac had assumed both of the men were dead, so he began yelling a terrible rendition of _Taps_. Combeferre covered his head try to block out the messy blend of notes.

Musichetta tapped Joly's face, then said excitedly, “He's alive!” she went to Bossuet and… “He is too!”

“I told you CPR worked,” Gavroche said boastfully, puffing out his chest.

“Aren't the amazing? They look so much like me, but they have legs. And have more sand on them.” Musichetta laughed a little at the thought, and brushed some sand off their shirts. “I wonder what they call you both. I'm sure you have names. What are you like?” The two unconscious men began to move uncomfortably, and Musichetta gently ran her fingers through Joly's hair, and over Bossuet's head since he didn't have any, quietly humming a soft tune.

Combeferre was getting a little antsy seeing the people waking up. “Alright, this was fun, but we need to get home before your father finds out, or they try to kill you.”

“I've got to be honest with you, I don't think they're in any shape to attack anything,” Gavroche said, poking Joly's foot. Joly was a bit more awake and reacted by nearly kicking him. “Well, I stand corrected.”

Combeferre crawled up on the hot sand. He trying not burn his feet on the ground. Musichetta nodded to the men, and the others looked horrified. “You missed my segment on pescetarians, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, she did, and it was very good, per usual,” Courferyac confirmed. 

“But they’re not going to hurt me,” Musichetta said, “They’re too tired and weak to do anything.” She resumed humming for a while, and two fellows continued to lie quietly, breathing softly. From up on a hill, the group could hear a bark and could see the black dog from earlier running down towards the beach. “Now might be a good time to go, though,” she said, hopping back into the water just as the other men, Enjolras and Grantaire, were coming over the top of the hill. 

“Bossuet! Joly! You’re actually alive! I thought you were dead!” Grantaire exclaimed, as Bahorel hopped happily onto his friends. 

Joly jolted awake, accidentally hitting Bossuet. “This dog, I swear, is trying to kill me.” He looked down at his chest. “I probably have broken ribs. I most definitely have broken ribs. My chest hurts so bad. Or maybe it’s cardiac arrest--Bossuet, I’m having a heart attack!”

Bossuet rolled over and coughed up some water. “I don’t think you’re having a heart attack, Joly. You just had a huge dog sit on you and you just went swimming.” 

Joly sat straight up. “I heard a voice earlier. It was like an angel-- _oh my god, Bossuet, I died!”_

“Joly…” Bossuet said, “You are not dead. I heard it too. I think whoever it was, saved us.” 

“Wait,” his partner was saying, not really listening, “Are we going to drown in our sleep later? Because of all the water we now have in our lungs?” 

Enjolras looked at Grantaire with raised eyebrows. “What are we going to do with these two?”

Musichetta watched this exchange from a safe distance, and stifled a laugh. “I wish I could tell them.”

“Alright, let’s get you two up to the castle, dry you off, and get you some tea or something,” Grantaire said, helping Bossuet up. 

Musichetta was watching them walking away with a sigh. “They’re very handsome.”

“Which one?” Courfeyrac asked, “The zombie men you rescued or the dry and clean-cut gentlemen?”

She rolled her eyes. “In your terms, the zombies.” Musichetta turned back to watch them leave. “I wish we could interact with them. They seem quite nice.”

“Well, that one’s sweet, but he’s bald; and the other is cute, but far too scared of dying. So you’re on your own with this one,” her friend said with a snort.

Combeferre rubbed his forehead, groaning, “What is your father going to think?” Musichetta turned around quickly. He smacked his forehead. “How many secrets must I keep for you?”

“You won’t tell him?” she said hopefully. Combeferre groaned, then nodded. “Oh, thank you so much, Combeferre!” Musichetta hugged him tightly. 


	3. Chapter 3

At the castle a few hours later, Feuilly was sitting curled up on a warm blanket, sleeping and purring. His orange fur was now soft and fluffy, as usual. Bahorel was still wet from the previous night, so he shook off a bit, then sat with his head next to the small cat's.

Feuilly opened his eyes and saw a huge black nose, and hissed in surprise. Seeing it was the friend who rescued him last night, he stood up, stretched and yawned, then picked up the corner of his blanket and began pulling it away. Bahorel's ears drooped, feeling the sting of rejection.

Then he felt something struggling against his side, and he turned to see Feuilly trying to push the blanket over his back. He pushed his nose under the cat, and Feuilly was able to get the blanket over him. After achieving this, Feuilly slid down and snuggled against Bahorel and began cleaning him with his tongue.

Joly and Bossuet were watching. “So, are we going to get hypothermia or smallpox?” Bossuet asked jokingly.

“First of all, you don’t get small pox from being cold, you get it from a virus. Second of all, I think we're safe for now,” Joly decided, wrapping his blanket tighter. Bossuet sneezed. 

“Please don't get me sick.” 

Bossuet scooted closer, leaning over to give him a kiss, puckering his mouth dramatically. Joly tried to squirm away, but Bossuet still managed a peck on the cheek. “You are going to kill me.”

“I had an idea about the whole something-missing thing,” Bossuet said, changing the subject, “I heard that voice earlier--you may not have heard about it because you thought you were dead--and I thought, what if what we're missing is another person?” Joly gave him a look, and he continued, “Not as a replacement, not as a something to spice things up either, but another person to genuinely care about.”

“Where are we going to find such a person?” Joly asked him, resting his head against Bossuet's. “You've already contaminated me. Nothing you have is going to kill me any faster than what you've given me already.”

“We share a bed, Joly, it was only a matter of time,” Bossuet sighed. “Here's the thing. Sometimes the bed feels a little too big. Same thing in my heart, I don't know about you.”

“Well, my heart doesn't have a hole in it, that wouldn't be good. But I know what you mean. I just wish it didn't feel this bad.” Joly looked a little disappointed. “I want us to be happy.”

“Well, we could try meeting the girl--alright, I’m assuming they’re female; though, some men have high voices and some men didn’t start that way--that rescued us,” his partner suggested. “We could ask around, and if anyone says anything, then we can try it out. And if they don’t identify as female, I can apologize.”

“Well, we could try, it shouldn’t hurt,” Joly said with a shrug.

* * *

For a few days, Cosette couldn’t figure out what was up with Musichetta. She was floating through the days, her eyes all gleamy like no one was in there. She was quite giggly, but wouldn’t share the joke with anyone. 

“Oh, no,” Cosette said to herself when she realized what was going on. “Courfeyrac,” she said suddenly as the fish swam by, “Have you noticed anything weird about… about you-know-who?”

“Are you talking about Musichetta? I’ll say,” Courferyac said with a groan, “She looks right through me every time I try to talk to her, just humming away like a crazy person. What am I? Last week’s sashimi?” He put a fin on his hip. “I do not know what’s going on.”

“Has it occurred to you that she might be in love?” Cosette suggested, and Courferyac suddenly looked alert.

“Of course! What else causes someone to sigh like a romantic? Wait, who do you think the lucky seafood dish is?” he asked, looking suspicious. 

“I don’t know, but he must be one deep-sea hunk,” the princess replied, and the two parted ways, having resolved the question. 

Courfeyrac went away singing, _“Musichetta and someone, swimming in the sea, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”_

King Valjean overheard this and went to find Combeferre as quickly as he could. He was sure that a little humoring wouldn’t hurt anyone, so he came up behind the young crab and said, “Combeferre, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Combeferre, however, stiffened far more than he expected. “N-no, Your H-Highness?” 

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Valjean answered, trying to not start laughing. “What are you hiding from me, Combeferre?”

But suddenly, to his surprise, Combeferre broke down crying. “I tried to s-stop her, Your Highness! But she s-said the humans weren’t g-going to hurt h-her--”

“What?” Valjean looked angry. “She rescued humans? And you let her?”

“She t-told me they were h-hurt, and they looked k-kind of dead…” Combeferre tried to reason, but the King was already out of sight.

* * *

Courfeyrac twirled into Musichetta’s grotto, holding his fins behind his back, which was making it hard to swim, and sang out, “Musichetta, I have a surprise for you!”

“Hm?” Musichetta came from around a corner, not quite as dazed as she was before. Courferyac held out his fins, showing the little tube the men had been looking through when the boat had gone down. 

“I thought you might want it,” he said with a little blush.

“Oh, thank you! It’s so pretty!” his friend gushed, giving him a tight hug. “Was this how you use it? Hold it up to your eye--Father!” She fell backward, having caught a too-close view of her father. And he was beyond angry.

“ _What did I tell you about going to the surface?”_ he shouted, “ _And why would you save the very people who killed your mother?”_

Musichetta cowered a little in the corner. “How did you--” Combeferre had chased the King and was now pulling up out of breath behind him “--You told on us?!”

“He scared me and I c-couldn’t hold it any longer!” Combeferre was completely hysterical, and essentially incapable of calming down.

“But they were hurt and alone, and the others couldn’t find them. So I got them out and on land--”

“ _You are not going to the surface again, do you understand?”_ Valjean yelled over everyone. He swung his trident, smashing the telescope in Musichetta’s hands, then left. 

Musichetta paused for a moment in shock, watching her father leave, then broke down in tears. Courfeyrac tried to comfort her, but she sent him away. Combeferre approached her, but she nearly slapped him backward. 

“You’ve done enough damage!” she shouted at him and he backed away, crumpled with guilt. 

The King sighed, sitting back on his throne. “Combeferre, was I too harsh on her?”

“I mean no disrespect by this, Your Highness, but what was your first clue?” the crab replied, still miserable. “But she needs time alone. She almost broke me like your trident broke that tooberdooper.”

Back in the grotto, Musichetta was still crying. She sat up, suddenly having the feeling of being watched. To her surprise, two long slippery eels slithered from a chasm near her. 

“Poor s-s-sweet, mis-s-sunderstood child,” one crooned to their partner. 

“If only there was-s s-some way for her to get her men,” the other said.

“Perhaps-s-s the s-sea witch can!” they said in unison, pretending that they had just thought of the idea. 

Musichetta wasn’t convinced. She knew something creepy when she saw it and these eels were definitively the creepiest thing she had seen in her life. “I wouldn’t go to a witch for help,” she said boldly, making her first acknowledgement of the creatures. 

“The s-s-sea witch has-s-s been dying to meet you,” the first eel explained, moving a bit closer, “But s-s-she can’t leave her cave.”

“Yes-s-s,” the second one chimed in, “S-s-she heard about your s-s-situation and s-s-she thought that she could be of as-s-sis-s-stance.”

The frequent stretches of the _s_ ’s were s-s-starting to get on her nerves, but Musichetta was beginning to get curious about this sea witch character. “Where is she?”


	4. Chapter 4

Musichetta followed the eels--whose names were apparently Babet and Brujon; though Musichetta thought their names would each have at least one _s_ in them--all the way to the darkest trenches of the ocean to a cave so deep that light was afraid to shine on it.

Inside the dark cave, a high voice called out, “Come on in, dear! I don't bite--very hard.” This was followed by an eerie laugh that chilled Musichetta to the bone. 

Once inside the cavern, she could see where the voice had come from. A large woman with lots of dark curly hair was reclining on an anemone. When she rose, Musichetta could see that in place of a regular tail, her lower half was that of a black octopus’s.

“Good day, dear. I'm Madame Thenardier,” she said sweetly, crawling across the seafloor. Musichetta almost missed the question when she said, “So, I heard you were having a bit of a dilemma. Care to explain?”

“Um… well you see, I'm fascinated by humans--two specific ones in particular. I would love to meet them and get to know them, but my father won't let me go up near the surface,” she explained as best she could.

Madame tapped her chin in deep thought. “It seems to me the only way to get what you want is to become human yourself.”

Musichetta looked up. “Can you really do that?” she asked skeptically.

“My dear sweet child, that's what I do! That's what I live for; helping poor unfortunate merfolk like yourself--who have no one else to turn to--achieve their dreams.” Madame laughed.

“My father told me that you're not to be trusted,” Musichetta said, narrowing her eyes at the octopus woman.

Madame sighed dramatically. “I’ll admit that in the past, I wasn't a good person. They called me… well, let's just say a witch. But I've made the switch. I'm a much better person now than I ever was then.”

“What do you do now?” Musichetta asked.

“Well, I fortunately know a little magic. It's a talent I've always had. I use it to help the miserable, lonely, and depressed.” Madame turned to her eels and whispered, “Pathetic.”

“What kinds of cases specifically do you work with?” Musichetta had to be sure what she was getting into.

“Oh, you know. That one wants to be thin, this one wants a girlfriend; and I get them what they desire. Although--I have to admit--there were some cases where someone didn't hold up their end of the bargain, so I'm afraid I had to take them across the coals. But other than that, everything has been perfect.” Madame smiled, “I've got a spell that will turn you into a human for three days, got it? Three days. Now, before the sun sets on the third day, you must get both men to fall in love with you--that is, they have to kiss you. But not just any kiss, a kiss of _true love_. If you can do that, you may remain human forever. If not, you turn back into a mermaid and your soul will belong to me. Have we got a deal?”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac had gone to find their friend in the meantime. They had found the trail of eels and a mermaid swimming very close to the ground, so they had followed it into the cave. Now, they were in front of Muischetta’s situation.

“No!” Combeferre shouted, but Brujon caught him swiftly. Babet quickly had Courfeyrac in a tight grip.

Musichetta was still unsure. “If I become a human, I won't ever be with my family or friends again.”

“But you'll have your men,” Madame pointed out. She signaled to the eels to bring Courfeyrac And Combeferre forward. “I'll throw in your friends so you aren't completely alone, how's that? Oh, and one more thing. We haven't discussed the subject of payment. You can't get nothing for nothing, you know.”

“But I don't have anything to give you,” Musichetta said.

Madame rolled her eyes. “You'll have your looks, your pretty face, and _never_ underestimate the power of _body language!_ Ha!” she laughed, swaying her hips and shimmying her shoulders. The eels whistled, which eels probably shouldn't be able to do.

“Don't do it, Musichetta! This isn't a good idea!” Courfeyrac tried to say, but Babet covered his mouth.

“The men up there don't like chattering; gossiping is so boring for them. But they go crazy for a woman who shuts her pretty little mouth and says nothing,” Madame explained, tossing some random bottles into her cauldron, which has lifted out of the floor, “I mean, honestly, what _is_ prattle for?”

“But down here, it's fine to talk,” Musichetta reasoned, but Madame shook her head, pulling out a scroll.

“Cultural differences, you see. Now, if you would like to proceed, sign the waiver so I am not responsible for any injuries you acquire up there. If not, I'm a very busy woman and I haven't got all day. All I ask is your voice.”

Musichetta looked at Madame, then the scroll, and then to her two friends wrapped up in eels. Then she took a deep breath and scrawled her name on the line.

“All right, just let me get this all situated--” Madame clanked around for a few minutes while the cauldron bubbled and fizzed. She lifted her shell necklace and said, “Now, sing towards me, dear.”

Musichetta sang as loudly as she could. Combeferre still struggled against his slippery captor as the eels moved them closer to the bubbling fluid. The singing stopped; a loud crash and a flash of bright light exploded from the cave. When it cleared, Musichetta, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were gone.

* * *

Gavroche was flying when he found Musichetta and he figured he might as well say hello. When he grew closer, he noticed two figures next to her that he didn’t recognized. “Hey, Musichetta! Who are your new friends?” 

“It’s us, Gavroche, Combeferre and Courferyac,” Combeferre said, rubbing his back in the most subtle way he could think of. He had landed hard. 

“Something’s different about you, Musichetta,” Gavroche said, tapping his chin. He fluttered around, landing on her knee. “I just can’t put my foot on it. Did you curl your hair? No? Did you… get a new top?”

Musichetta shook her head, waiting patiently for her friend to figure it out. 

Courfeyrac, however, didn’t realize this was a game and shouted, “We have legs now! We’re humans!”

Combeferre added, “And if she doesn’t get both princes to kiss her by the end of three days, her soul goes to that crazy woman.” He turned to Musichetta, who was testing her legs, and said, “Why would you do this to us?”

“To be fair,” Courfeyrac pointed out, “She didn’t say anything about it, the witch did herself. Besides, isn’t it a little interesting to try walking?”

“I… guess it’s neat,” Combeferre sighed as Musichetta fell on him. “You’re a mess.” She glared at him as if to tell him to go shove it.

“Well, if you're going to be humans, you need to dress like them,” Gavroche announced, pulling at a ship's sail from a nearby wreck. “How many wrecks can there be around here before they seem the sport unsafe?” He instructed the three of them of how to properly wrap themselves, so they finally looked exactly like all other bundles of cloth tied up in a loaf. 

From up on the hill, a dog bark alerted them. Bahorel came flying down the hill, dragging Bossuet behind him on a leash who was screaming for Joly to help him. A couple seconds late, Joly appeared, chasing them as fast as he could and shouting at Bossuet to slow down, as if he could. 

Bahorel pulled right toward Musichetta, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac. He jumped up on her, licking all over her face. Bossuet stumbled to his feet, shaking his head groggily. “Wow… I never want to do that again.”

Joly came jogging up, catching up to Bossuet before he fell on the ground. “Oh, are you alright? Do you have a concussion? Are you awake?” He was in a panic, holding onto his friend as if it were his last moments.

“I'm alright, Joly, just shaken. You can put me down,” Bossuet said calmly, and his friend agreed, lowering him to the sand. He looked up and saw a pretty girl sitting on the rock next to him. “Oh, hello there.”

Musichetta gave a friendly wave. Joly looked up at the rock, having not paid attention to anything other than Bossuet's health until this moment. _Got to be cool, got to be cool…_ “H-howdy.” That went well.

Courfeyrac didn’t particularly like getting ignored, but Combeferre had dragged him behind a rock in a panic. “We can’t let her do this. We need to find her father before she gets herself enslaved.”

“I don’t care. My friend is going to get the boyfriends she deserves,” Courfeyrac snapped back, trying to get out of Combeferre’s arms. He whispered, “But then she’ll be lonely for the rest of her life. Do you really want to live with that kind of guilt? If she gets the guys, she’ll be happy and we can tell her father that. He’ll at least know she’s alright!” He made his eyes big and round, pouting at Combeferre.

“Oh no… fine. But as soon as we figure this out, we’re confessing to King Valjean,” Combeferre groaned. 

Courferyac agreed, and stopped moving. This would’ve been all normal if he had moved from where Combeferre had him held hostage, which was on his lap. Once he realized where he was, he blushed and moved. 

“Wait, you’re that girl! Who rescued us, right?” Joly said excitedly, picking up Bossuet alarmingly fast and pointing his face toward Musichetta. She opened her mouth to speak, then realized she couldn’t speak. 

“But she can’t talk, Joly,” Bossuet whispered. “It was a voice, so it would have to be someone who can talk.” 

“Was there a wreck we didn’t hear?” Joly was still attempting to communicate. “Are you hurt? Or sick?”

“ _What is with your ridiculous obsession with illness,_ she must be asking herself,” Bossuet replied, standing up. “Here’s an easy question--would you like to stay with us at the castle? Get cleaned up and everything? You don’t have to stay forever, but at least stay until someone can come get you.” 

Musichetta nodded. That certainly _was_ an easy question to answer. 


	5. Chapter 5

Once at the castle, Musichetta was brought to a room with a little tub for washing in. The housekeeper already had a towel ready.

“Hello!” they said sweetly, pushing the crown of flowers off their forehead. “I'm Jehan. I've got your bath all set up, if you need any help, just--ring this little bell.” They handed her a bell that fit in the palm of her hand.

Musichetta looked around the room in amazement. The ceilings were so high! She had never seen anything like it. Even the castle ceilings underwater weren't ever this high up.

“I'll come and get you dressed in about half an hour for dinner. My husband's making a special meal tonight, I just hope he doesn't burn it,” Jehan said with a nervous laugh.

* * *

In the kitchen, dinner was underway. This wasn't Montparnasse's ideal job, but it paid pretty good and the occupation he would most enjoy was one that involved absolutely no effort. Besides, he could let out all the bottled up anger to hack apart seafood and no one really worried about him.

That didn't mean he spoke praises of his job while he was working, either. This particular day, he was ranting about his least favorite part of the job. “Oh, how I _love_ the _aroma_ of _les poissons!_ Just because we live in a _seaside kingdom_ means all we eat is _escargots_ and _seafood newburg_! I don't even know what those are, so I'm assuming they’re fake.”

Combeferre was looking around the castle out of curiosity. Just because he didn't approve of the field trip didn't mean he wasn't interested when they got there. He happened to slip into the kitchen just as Montparnasse was trying to get the meat out of a crab. He had out the cracker and was digging in the shell with a fork and putting the insides in a large pot. 

Combeferre's eyes widened, and he almost vomited. _That_ was disturbing. He quickly hid behind a barrel of flour, praying Montparnasse wouldn't find him and pound him to bits like that other crab. He also hoped he could keep everything down.

Finally, Montparnasse decided to give up and get what he had gotten out breaded, so he headed over to the barrel of flour, and spotted the glasses peeking over. He grabbed Combeferre by the shirt, pulling him close to his face. “What are you doing in here?” Montparnasse growled through clenched teeth.

“Please don't hurt me,” Combeferre whimpered, shaking. He had gone through a lot of stress. “I'm far too young to die…”

“What's going on?” a sweet voice interrupted Montparnasse. He turned around, and there was Jehan, confused.

Montparnasse released Combeferre and grumbled, “Just trespassers.”

Jehan, instead of scolding him, wrapped their arms around Montparnasse, and sighed, “You're crazy.”

“Just about you,” Montparnasse replied, leaning over to give his spouse a very exaggerated kiss on the mouth. There was no sign of the aggressive cook, just a very affectionate husband. Combeferre stood to the side awkwardly, pushing up his glasses and averted his eyes. Watching couples kiss made him uncomfortable.

Once the kiss was done, Montparnasse apparently wasn't, so while Jehan was asking Combeferre to forgive them both for the whole situation--they had just been married a few weeks ago--their husband was trying to snuggle his spouse as much as he possibly could. Not that Jehan was trying to pull away or anything.

“I don't see you enough, Flower,” Montparnasse said with a sigh, “I miss you.”

“It'll be all right,” Jehan assured him, touching his cheek, “We’ll work things out somehow.” They turned back to Combeferre. “My apologies, sir. What are you doing in here?”

“I-I'm not really supposed to be here,” Combeferre explained, backing against the door, “My friend and I are here with our friend, the girl who can’t talk. We all lived.” He hated lying, but if he didn’t, he was sure that these two were going to pack him up to an asylum if he told the truth.

Jehan approached him and tried to look him in the eyes. “You know, if that’s not where you came from, it’s okay. Montparnasse’s the only reason no one’s put me away for being nonbinary.” 

Montparnasse took his spouse in his arms again, saying softly, “That’s because I’ll shank them if they try.”

“You see, being married to an ex-murderer does actually have its perks,” Jehan said brightly. Combeferre wasn’t sure if they were kidding or not, but he was willing to believe them. Jehan slipped out of Montparnasse’s arms again, and their spouse pouted. “I’ll be back in a little while. I’m just going to make sure she’s got the clothes under control. Petticoats are indeed petty.” They looked to Combeferre. “If you want to keep away from the princes, you can bring your friend in here and we can get you some food, alright?"

* * *

Joly, Bossuet, Grantaire, and Enjolras were all sitting around the table, waiting for Musichetta to come in. Enjolras and Grantaire watched the other two gentlemen trying to put together a little fort using paper napkins. It was Grantaire who introduced the practice, but Enjolras was a bit wary of the men's manners. He was also a bit nervous about meeting the young lady who was joining them this evening. The truth was, he hadn't really known any women in his life. He just listened to the two princes who were excitedly talking about her.

“I can't believe it. She is so unbelievably pretty.” Joly had been saying for the last three hours every once in awhile, and Bossuet agreed. “Do you think she could be that missing piece?”

Bossuet shrugged, placing another napkin in position, then frowned as it fell on the floor. “Well, I know that sure wasn't.” He crawled on the floor to grab the napkin and added, “But what about that voice we heard? Shouldn't we be looking for them sometime?”

“Well, until we do, we might as well take in a pretty girl who got shipwrecked, right?” Joly said with a shrug.

Musichetta entered the room at that moment, and both men jumped up out of their seats. Bossuet tripped into his partner but tried to play it off cool. Joly opened his mouth to greet her, but it just stayed hanging open with no words. Musichetta looked beautiful.

Enjolras, being the only one who appeared to be immune to women, stood up and bowed. “Good evening, miss,” he said, trying to snap the boys out of their speechless trance.

“You look… amazing,” Joly stammered, almost shaking. He was bright red.

Musichetta blushed and stared at the floor, fidgeting with the pink fluffy skirt of her dress. She looked over at the pile of napkins on the table.

“Oh, sorry, about that--” Bossuet said, running back to the table to clean up “--We were building a castle or something... I don't even remember what it was originally…” Every part of him was flushed, and somehow he made it to the table without falling.

Musichetta followed him and took a couple of the supplies. She then quickly constructed a little boat not unlike one Napoleon used in his navy.

“How did you do that?” Joly said, studying the miniature. Musichetta shrugged. She had once found a human puzzle and had figured out how to get the pieces together with at least five pieces missing. “You’re a genius.”

“You mean to tell me you just put that together, just like that?” Bossuet said in admiration.

Musichetta blushed from the praise, and Eponine, the maid, came in with the cart holding five plates. “The psycho--I mean, the chef’s special.” 

“Thank you, Eponine,” Enjolras said politely, smiling at his friend as she pulled the cart out of the room. “Why don't we let you three get to know each other a bit better?” Enjolras asked, taking Grantaire's arm gently and pulling him out of his seat. “We can have our dinner out on the patio.”

“You boys better behave while we're gone,” Grantaire warned them with a wink as the couple left the room. And with that, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were left in a long awkward silence. They picked at their food, eating a little bit, trying to not look at each other for too long. 

“So... you like jazz?” Joly asked, trying to make conversation. Musichetta looked extremely confused. “Our former queen loved it.” He pointed to a large portrait of what appeared to be a very well-dressed drag queen.

Bossuet jumped up. “Can you waltz? I can teach you if you don't. That's one thing that I don't mess up to badly.” Musichetta hopped out of her seat, interested.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were listening under the door. “What do you hear?” Combeferre asked.

“Something about salts, and a peach, and salad, ” Courfeyrac answered, pressing his ear against the door.

“What the heck do they eat up here? They just ate!” Combeferre said with a shiver.

“What did they eat?” Courfeyrac asked.

Combeferre said in a quavering voice, “Shellfish.” 

Courfeyrac's eyes widened, standing up and hugged him tightly. “I am so sorry, baby,” he said softly, patting his shoulder so Combeferre, whose lip had started trembling trying not to start crying, could rest his head on it. 

Back inside the room, Bossuet had taken Joly’s hands--after he cleaned them--and was showing how to dance. “You can use this song to figure out to the beats,” Bossuet said, then proceeded to sing, “ _Lavender’s blue, dilly-dilly, lavender’s green, when I am king, dilly-dilly, then you’ll be my queen…_ ” 

He took his partner's hand, then guided him around the room, then offered a hand to Musichetta, who took took it. Joly put one arm on her waist, and Bossuet put his arm around her waist, and both her arms went over their shoulders. They were able to waltz around the room at least three times until Joly tripped and everyone fell laughing, Musichetta’s being silent, but the smile on her face told them that she was having fun. 

Having heard the crash, Enjolras and Grantaire came in quickly to find Joly almost sitting in a chair, with Musichetta’s head on his chest and Bossuet’s in Musichetta’s lap. 

“I didn’t think it would escalate that fast,” Grantaire said. Enjolras buried his face in his partner’s shoulder.

“Please tell me _that_ isn’t going to be mandatory when we’re married,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to.”

Grantaire smiled at him, brushing his hair back. “Of course not, angel. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He kissed his forehead, and Enjolras smiled. 

Joly stood up, accidentally knocking everyone else on the ground. He quickly tried to get them up, all while frantically exclaiming, “It’s not what you’re thinking, I swear!”

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone,” Grantaire replied with a little smirk. The trio stood up, looking a little ashamed. “What were you three doing, anyway?”

Musichetta put up her arms in position and began dancing around the room. “Oh, you three were dancing?” Enjolras asked, smiling. “Much more wholesome than we thought. Well, you three should probably get to sleep, if you’ve eaten. Oh, miss?” Musichetta looked up. “Tomorrow, do you think you’d like a tour of our kingdom? The boys aren’t busy, they could take you.” 

Joly and Bossuet nodded excitedly. “We can do that! We can show her the theatre, and the tavern, and the--” 

“So you’ll have tour guides, but would you actually like to?” Grantaire asked, patting Joly’s shoulder. 

Musichetta nodded with just as much enthusiasm as the men, and Enjolras said, “Well, that settles it. Now, why don’t you three get some sleep? We wouldn’t want you to fall asleep in the middle of the ride.”

The two men nodded obediently, looking a little sad as they went to their room. Jehan came in with a sweet smile on their face. “Hello, sweetie, I’ve got your room all set up.” As the two of them left the room, they turned to the girl and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind, your two friends are in an adjoining room. There’s only a door in between.” When Musichetta’s eyes widened in surprise, Jehan smiled. “They went in the kitchen, and my husband nearly lost it. He prefers his space when working. They won’t be long.”

* * *

Later that night, Courfeyrac and Combeferre snuck into the room quietly, trying to not wake Musichetta up. 

But Musichetta was already awake, and Courfeyrac squealed when she came up behind and hugged him. “Oh my--what’d you do that for?” he sputtered as Combeferre turned up the gas light. Musichetta shrugged, sitting on her bed, then she narrowed her eyes. “What?” She pointed at both of them. 

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. “No, we weren’t doing anything, nope, going to bed now,” he stammered, flushing red and tripping over Combeferre getting to their room. Musichetta sighed. 

* * *

Madame was still down in her underwater lair, twirling the chain of her shell necklace and playing with the voice inside. It wasn’t particularly high, but it was definitely beautiful. 

To be blunt, she was extremely bored. Being trapped in a cave was no fun, especially when business was slow. And no one knew she was down there, and if they did they weren’t going anytime soon. 

“I’ll just check in on things up,” she said to herself, swimming over to the magic crystal ball she had. “Oh, everything’s working out swimmingly,” she said with a laugh, seeing a replay of dinner, “I’ll let her have a head start, but I won’t let her go so fast. I have two full days, after all.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, the trio headed out on their little tour of the kingdom. As they went along, both men were awkwardly flirting with Musichetta, though they were feeling more stupid as the carriage went along. They showed her the bakery, and the bookshop. They tried to take her to the theatre, but they were sold out. They went out to lunch, and the conversation was nonexistent, Joly and Bossuet being too gentlemanly to leave Musichetta out and Musichetta not being able to contribute to a discussion. 

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were trying to spy on them and at the same time be on what was called by more regular people a date. They were, obviously, continuously distracted by each other, laughing and chatting. Courfeyrac kept trying to take Combeferre’s hand, but Combeferre was a little nervous. He wasn’t sure about the laws a regulations of that kind of thing. 

“The princes are in a relationship. We are not out of place here,” Courfeyrac whispered to him, putting an arm over his shoulder while they watched the trouple pick at their food. 

“I just don’t know if everyone’s alright with it, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you just because we’re out like any other lovers,” Combeferre replied, but allowed Courfeyrac’s head to rest on his shoulder. 

Someone saw the pair sitting on a bench together, and shouted a word across the street. 

Courfeyrac sat up and shouted at them, “Are you hitting on my man? Saying that he’s hot like a cigarette? I’ll tell you this right now, _sir_ , you have _sorely_ underestimated him! He is _way_ hotter than that! Like the place you can go when you’re done being a piece of homophobic trash!”

Combeferre blushed. “This can’t be happening. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I don’t care, I’m fighting for you, baby,” Courfeyrac replied as the people walked away. He stuck his thumb in his mouth in their direction, but Combeferre yanked his hand away before he could complete the gesture. 

Bossuet turned around and saw them sitting there. “Wow, he had some nerve to tell them that.”

Joly sat back in his chair with a sigh. “I wish those people would leave everyone alone about that.” Musichetta frowned, and he explained, “A few months ago, we announced that we made all marriages legal. A lot of people don’t like it, but it’s happening; and we know that our guardians, Enjolras and Grantaire, are planning on getting married in the summer.”

Bossuet nodded, but brightened up. “Anyone can get married if they want, men and women, women and women, men and men, three of any combination--now we’re working to get nonbinary recognized as an actual gender!” 

“Wait,” Joly halted the conversation. “I don’t think we’ve even figured out what your name is.”

“Can we guess?” Bossuet asked Musichetta, and she shrugged, worrying that they were never going to figure it out. And they couldn’t. Rachel, Lily, Christina, Mildred--“Bossuet, does she look like a Mildred to you?”

Combeferre overheard the conversation, and leaned over to Courfeyrac with a wink, saying, “Well, my sweet one, we best be going to see my cousin, Musichetta!”

“I like that phrase, My sweet one, it’s cute,” Courfeyrac said with a grin as Combeferre pulled him behind the carriage. They had been riding on the back the whole time, and no one had noticed. 

“Musichetta?” Joly said, and Musichetta nodded, her eyes lighting up. “That’s your name?” She nodded again. 

“That’s really pretty,” Bossuet said, then added, “I mean, you’re really pretty, so it fits.”

* * *

“So, for a finale of our tour,” Bossuet said as he tripped into the water, “We will be showing you the grand lagoon we happen to have here.”

“Please don’t get hypothermia,” Joly begged him, carrying Musichetta and setting her in the boat, then climbing in himself. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“It’s May, what did you expect, the water to be boiling?” Bossuet said with a smile, trying to do a fancy trick but instead falling into the boat. “I don’t know what I was expecting to happen there.” 

The three of them quickly figured out that, once you get in the middle of a lagoon, the excitement declines quite dramatically. Combeferre and Courferyac were watching from the shore, not seeing much, but they were fairly certain no kissing was happening as of yet. 

Finally, Courfeyrac had enough waiting and stood up and started singing very loudly. “ _Every night I see you, I touch you I feel you, that’s is how I know you go on--_ hey!” Combeferre pushed him on the ground next to him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Combeferre whispered frantically. “We have to wait for them to--”

“I’ve done my waiting! Over twelve hours of it!” Courfeyrac argued, “I’m trying to help!”

“Well, you have to be more subtle,” Combeferre said, pulling him up. “I’ve gotten good at voice throwing.”

“The heck is that?” Courfeyrac asked, brushing the dirt off his coat. He was enjoying the humans’ style.

Combeferre cleared his throat, then it sounded like from in the distance, someone was saying, “She’s there, right there, sitting right before your eyes, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. And she might even like you back, but there’s only one way to find out. Just lean over, and… kiss her.” 

“Do you hear something?” Bossuet asked, and the other two shrugged. “We might as well start pulling in, or… something.” He was starting to fall for it. Joly had already fallen in fairly deep, staring into Musichetta’s eyes quite intently. His eyes darted over to Bossuet, and something about the light made the two other people in the boat look even more beautiful than normal. Or maybe he was just noticing it better. 

“Now, kiss,” Courfeyrac whispered, now inside of a plant with opera glasses he had snatched from on top of the fireplace. Combeferre covered his mouth.

The three of them leaned forward, so close that they could feel each other’s breath on their faces, when suddenly the boat flipped over and the trio got dumped straight out. Luckily, the water wasn’t too deep. Babet and Brujon, who had been sent by Madame Thenardier, high-fived each other with their tails. 

Back in the lair, Madame was watching the show in her crystal ball. “That was a close one,” she said to herself, “Maybe a bit too close. Time for me to take things into my own tentacles.” She sneered at the shell necklace, which contained Musichetta’s voice. Already, she had a plan. “Only one has to divide for them all to fall.”

* * *

After the boating incident, the three soggy people decided it was time to go home. When they got there, however, Joly excused himself and went outside to think. He was very much attracted to Bossuet, he had since forever, but Musichetta was also _so_ pretty… and Bossuet seemed to like her too, but the fact that Musichetta couldn't speak meant that they didn't know if she liked them back. Besides, if she couldn't talk, then she couldn't be the girl they had heard. 

His ears perked up. He heard something. And it was coming from down by the rocks. He sank down cautiously, peeking from behind a rock. Standing on the sand was a beautiful woman, and she was singing.

“ _Wandering free, wish I could be, part of your world_.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone.

Joly stared at her, eyes fixed on her. She was the one. He forgot about Bossuet, and Musichetta, everything. All that mattered was this woman standing in front of him.


	7. Chapter 7

Musichetta and Bossuet were in the middle of her first game of checkers, and he was losing fairly badly.

“Joly always beats me, but you're new to this? Man, I'm terrible,” he laughed as Musichetta took her another one of his pieces. “Musichetta? Do you think either of us men have a chance with a girl like you?”

His opponent looked up quickly. Bossuet clarified, “I didn't mean to startle you or anything, it's a stupid question really--”

Musichetta shook her head vigorously. “Really? You think we do have a chance? Nice-looking enough and everything?” She blushed pink and nodded. Bossuet sat back in his chair with a look of wonder. “You're the only girl who's ever thought I was handsome.”

There was some commotion in the hallway, so Bossuet excused himself to go check on it. In the hall, Joly was standing next to a beautiful girl, arguing with Grantaire and Enjolras.

“Not on my watch!” Grantaire was shouting, hitting the wall with his fist, “ _Not on my watch!_ ”

Enjolras was looking a little shaken, but was maintaining a firm, steady voice. “Joly, you can't marry a woman you just met.”

“You _can_ if it's true love!” Joly replied defiantly. The girl on his arm was remaining calm.

“What do you mean, true love?” Bossuet asked, coming down the stairs. “I've been by your side for almost a year, even though you're a hypochondriac, helping you through every ailment you could have--I stayed with you through the bubonic plague, Joly! Isn't that contagious?” He said, tears running down his face. “If that's not love, what is?”

“You will never understand, Bossuet,” Joly snapped, “None of you will.” He began to leave the room.

Bossuet chased after him, cupping Joly's face in his hands. “Joly, what has gotten into you? You're not a person who just rushes into things, you've never been. Now you're... marrying a girl you just met... and not even thinking about me?”

Joly shook him off roughly. “I'm my own person, Bossuet. Unlike you, I don't need someone around to keep my butt out of trouble every two minutes.” And with that, he stormed down the hall with his new girl by his side.

That hit Bossuet like a slap in the face. No one had ever said something like that to him before. Joly knew what not to tease him about, and his bad luck was one of those things.

Grantaire and Enjolras had since been done with the situation and had left, leaving him alone in the empty hall. He sat down on the floor, a sob escaping him as he said, “Joly was there for me when I lost my parents, who is there when I lose Joly?”

Musichetta had heard some of the yelling, and now all she heard was silence. Courfeyrac twirled into the room from the opposite door with a giggle. His shirt was completely wrinkled, and he had a dopey look on his face, like he was drunk.

“I love him so much...” He noticed Musichetta's expression and sobered up right away, pulling his collar up to his chin. “What happened? Wasn't one of the men with you?”

She shrugged, then pointed to her own collar with a look of confusion. Courfeyrac sat down on the chair and covered his head with his arms. “Absolutely nothing.” Musichetta grinned, nudging him. “Look, can a guy just have a wonderful evening with the love of his life without being judged too horribly?”

“Any progress made on the princes?” Combeferre asked cheerfully, entering the room with an air of dreaminess but was far more composed than his counterpart.

Courfeyrac came up to him and hugged him, asking, “Do you want to tell her? About everything?”

“She's your best friend,” Combeferre laughed, poking his nose playfully.

“Okay...” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes dramatically, “Musichetta, we're together. As in I'm his boyfriend now.” He grinned as Combeferre hugged him back, resting his head on his shoulder.

Musichetta clapped excitedly. She knew Courfeyrac had a crush on Combeferre for a long time, and was happy that was actually getting somewhere. And as she had hoped, they were adorable. She did feel a little bit like she was missing out on something wonderful, though. Hopefully, though, that would change soon.

* * *

But that wasn’t likely. The announcement was made at breakfast that Joly was engaged, and arrangements were to be made right away for the wedding. This caught everyone by surprise and alarm, but no one could shake either party out of it. As soon as he heard the news, Bossuet left his breakfast untouched, slamming the door, and Musichetta burst into tears and hurried to the kitchen to Jehan’s welcoming shoulder. Joly didn’t seem to notice. 

Joly and the girl were to be married at sundown, so everyone was at work. Jehan slowly worked on the wedding dress, looking sadly at the stitches. “I wish this was for Musichetta. She'd look so pretty… Bossuet and Joly and she should've tied the knot.”

Montparnasse had to make the cake, and he hated frilly cakes--even Jehan wasn't that bad--and he had to make it to the girl's liking, and she wouldn't leave him alone. The only thing keeping him from killing her on the spot was that he couldn't decide on the method. The dagger in his boot was too messy, the gun in his pocket was too loud, and smothering her in the flour bowl just took too much time. It was time to consult someone else.

“Flower,” he said smoothly, walking into the room where Jehan was working. He hugged them from behind with a little kiss. “What would you say the best way would be to get rid of a rather large pest?” he asked with a wink, grinning.

Jehan slapped their work on their lap, glaring straight forward. “Push her out the window,” they said through clenched teeth. “If that persistent brat comes here again to tell me that there isn't enough lace, I'll do it myself. And I don't mean add more lace.”

Montparnasse sighed happily, nuzzling against their shoulder affectionately and giving them another kiss. “I love it when you're evil.”

Enjolras was listening to Grantaire drunkenly whine about how she had drunk the special champagne that he had been saving for his and Enjolras's wedding later that summer. It had been very expensive, and quite old, though Grantaire didn't like bitter and Enjolras didn't drink. He was thinking of serving it to the guests. It had been from the year they had met each other, and Grantaire thought it would be special, “And now _she_ had to go and drink it! She ruined the surprise, Angel!”

Enjolras, not sure how to handle the situation, wrapped his arms around his fiance and told him it would be alright. He had never really met a woman before, but he hated this new girl, especially after meeting Musichetta, who was sweet and capable of going along with what other people wanted. 

“Now I know why I am only attracted to men: women are disgusting,” He said to himself, watching the girl swoon over Joly. 

Feuilly had been asleep on a chair when the girl decided to sit down on top of him. He shrieked, shooting out from under her, and she screamed as well, kicking the cat hard. Bahorel skidded into the room as soon as he heard the cat land on the ground, and barked at the woman, baring his teeth and threatening to bite her. This caused a huge commotion, calling everyone's attention. One thing led to another, and Joly sent Bahorel to be muzzled, because he clearly couldn't be trusted around his girlfriend. He'd only been protecting Feuilly, who was feeling pretty bad after flying across the room. He was lying quietly in the corner, not moving until Jehan picked him up and stroked his fur.

“Poor little kitty,” Jehan cooed, bringing him to their room to check him for broken bones, “Did the mean big bad meanie kick you? Don't worry, Mama's going to get you a nice warm blankie and a bowl of milk, does that sound nice?” Feuilly meowed weakly.

Musichetta thought she would go visit Bossuet. She knocked on the door to his study, and the response was an off-key rendition of “All By Myself ” accompanied by an unrecognizable instrument that was squeaky and playing a completely different song than what was being sung. Evidently he didn't know the words.

She gently opened the door to find Bossuet on the floor, clothes wrinkled as if he'd slept in them, holding a wooden recorder and blowing into it hard. Around him was a mixture of handkerchiefs and portraits that had been painted over the course of the last two days, all of Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta having a wonderful time together. On one piece of paper, Bossuet had doodled a heart, and on it were the letters “J+B+M.”

When he finally looked up, Bossuet saw Musichetta and scooped up all the pictures, dropping some as he went. “It's not what it looks like.” He looked beyond her, then said, “You may want to go, so you don't get BLS.” Musichetta looked at him confusedly. “Bad Luck Syndrome. It's commonly found in bald, heartbroken losers whose partner is getting married to someone else,” Bossuet explained, followed by a sniffle.

Musichetta nodded understandingly and sat next to him on the floor. “I can't believe that he would do this. I thought he loved me. I thought he loved _you_. The first night you came, he was the first to bring up how beautiful you are. He even asked me if I thought you were that piece we felt was missing in our lives. Now he's gone.”

Musichetta wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I'm just glad you're still here, though I don't know how much longer.” He sat back and sighed. “He doesn't even know her name. At least find out what the princess of man-stealer-ville is going to be called. Am I really that bad?”

Musichetta shook her head. She really wanted both men to know how much she cared about them, but she still couldn't talk. Bossuet looked closer at her, concerned. “Are you crying?” Musichetta shook her head again as a tear ran down her cheek. Bossuet wiped it away, his hand resting on her face for a moment before pulling away.

“Well, I should get ready,” he said sadly, standing up, “Her future Majesty invited me to the wedding.” Musichetta nodded, getting up herself, feeling hurt that no one had asked her to come. As she closed the door she could hear him quietly singing the tune he taught her to waltz to, but it sounded much more melancholy. 

“ _Lavender’s blue, dilly-dilly, lavender’s green, if I were king, dilly-dilly, then you both’d be queen.”_


	8. Chapter 8

The wedding boat set off, and the happy couple was below deck getting ready. Gavroche had heard that Joly was getting married, so he thought he would pop in on Musichetta on her big day--though he was almost certain that it was two men who she was in love with, not one. But to his surprise, the woman standing in front of the mirror did not look anything like Musichetta.

“Only a few hours left!” the woman cheered, “Then I will be princess and Musichetta will be mine forever!” She glanced in the mirror, and Gavroche couldn't believe his eyes. The girl was Madame Thenardier in disguise! Something had to be done. Gavroche flew as fast as he could to the kingdom to find Musichetta.

* * *

On land, Musichetta was curled up on the boardwalk, sobbing. Bossuet had been invited to the wedding, but Musichetta hadn't. Not that she cared at all.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac both felt a little off--Combeferre feeling irritable, or even crabby, and Courfeyrac just had an off, or even fishy, feeling--but they tried to hide it as well as they could for their friend. They wanted to bring up the whole belonging-to-Madame thing, but weren't sure when would be best.

Gavroche almost flew into the dock, spluttering, “That wasn’t her! That’s not a young lady on the boat! That’s the creepy old woman! The one with your voice!”

Combeferre picked him up, noticing it was a bit harder to keep his first four fingers apart. “Are you certain?”

* * *

“Have I ever lied to you? About anything important?” Gavroche said quickly. Courfeyrac shook his head. “Look, the wack job on the boat is stealing your man, and your chance at happiness.”

Courfeyrac’s expression darkened. “Oh, no, she she did _not_ cheat my friend out of getting her men. She is going to _pay_ for this.” He hopped off the dock in a perfect arc, then jumped up faster than he went down. “That guy was not kidding when he said it was cold in there.”

“I thought burning passionate anger was going to keep you warm,” Combeferre said, “I’m not kidding.”

“There are these…” Gavroche suggested, looking at some wood that had fallen and were bobbing in the water. 

“Let’s do it,” Courferyac said, taking Musichetta’s hand and helped her get down.

* * *

“What a beautiful wedding,” Jehan said, seating themself down at the back of the room with an injured Feuilly wrapped in an old sweater. It really was a lovely display, especially since this had just been thrown together.

Montparnasse looked around at the whole frilly disaster. The girl had the nerve earlier to go up to him and start flirting with him. “Yes, but what a shame, the poor groom's bride is a--”

He was promptly interrupted by the beginning of the Wedding March song. Joly was waiting stone-faced at the front, close enough that Bossuet could have taken his hand if he wanted to. But he was not going to touch that hand, or any other part of Joly, ever again. Not after this. He was slouching in the front row of the wedding, by the girl's suggestion. He had no idea why she would want him to even show up. Maybe just to rub his nose in that she had stolen one of the loves of his life. He wouldn't put it past her.

Feuilly saw across the room that Bahorel was tied up in a corner, head between his paws, with a muzzle over his big nose, looking very sad. He sniffed in his direction, and Jehan looked over at the huge dog. 

“You want to see him?” Feuilly sat on their knee, staring. “Alright, just be careful, your side’s still hurt.”

Feuilly scooted down Jehan's leg, holding the sweater, and scampered over to his friend, whose ears perked up. The little cat sat in front of him and meowed softly. Bahorel's tail wagged, having missed his small friend. Feuilly crawled inside the sweater, then Bahorel tried to nose his way in through a hole. Feuilly jumped when Bahorel's muzzle poked his side. His side was actually quite sore, but he didn't want to let on. Bahorel was a little worried about his friend getting hurt again. All his worries melted though, when Feuilly began quietly purring. He was alright.

The Bishop of Digne wasn’t thrilled to be on a boat; Grantaire had Enjolras sit next to him, holding him and stroking his hair, also praying to whatever deity would take him that Enjolras wouldn’t throw up on him. “The wedding will be over and we can go back on land, angel, you won’t be sick.”

“But the thing making me the most sick will still be there,” Enjolras groaned, and his stomach lurched violently. Grantaire gave him a kiss and kept telling him how nice land would be. It was a little painful to be optimistic, but he would do it for Enjolras.

“We are here today to, er, celebrate the union of souls,” The Bishop began, looking a bit disoriented. Something was off about the feeling he got from the young woman being married. Something smelled… evil. 

Gavroche had been sent to stall the wedding, since apparently planks of wood are not the fastest transportation, so Gavroche flew in and dropped an unwanted load on the bride’s head. 

“Aah!” She screamed, and began shouting for someone to help her, but everyone else present did not feel an urgent need to assist her, and something else had caught Joly’s attention. Something was coming beyond the horizon. And it was coming quite fast. 

“I think we’re about to be attacked,” he said to one of the sailors, who went to warn the captain, but it was too late. The wedding crashers had arrived. Courfeyrac had found an old ship’s horn on the dock, and decided to bring it along for curiosity, so he tested it out right next to the wedding ship. 

The young woman was jolted by the sudden blast of sound, and her necklace fell off, crashing on the deck. Musichetta was climbing up the side of the ship as she felt a familiar sensation in her throat. Her voice was back! Joly was rattled, trying to figure out what was going on, then saw Musichetta and knew something had happened, considering he was now on a boat, the girl next to him--who he had never seen before--was wearing a wedding dress, and he caught the end of Bossuet looking at him with murder in his eyes. 

“W-what’s going on?” he stammered, sitting in a chair and shaking his head. 

The woman in the wedding dress suddenly let out a piercing cackle, shredding the dress and revealing her true form. “You’re too late, dear! It’s sundown! And _neither_ man wanted you!” As she said this, she grabbed the now-mermaid Musichetta and dragged her down off the side of the boat towards her lair. 

Montparnasse turned to Joly and said, “Dude, who’d get married to a girl with tentacles?”

“I don’t know, but I’m about to chase her; she just took something very important to me,” Joly replied, getting up and going to the lifeboats. 

Bossuet grabbed the other side of the boat, and Joly looked up at him. “I’m coming with you,” he said.


	9. Chapter 9

Under the sea, Madame was pulling Musichetta to her home, still laughing hysterically. Musichetta was terrified of what could be in store for her. What did Madame even do with the people who didn’t pay the price? 

From behind them an angry voice said, “Madame, what are you doing with my daughter?” Madame turned around to see King Jean Valjean. After Musichetta had been captured, Commbeferre and Courferyac, also returned to their original forms, had gone as fast as they could to the king and gave him a short synopsis of what had happened, and they had led him to the sea witch. 

“What perfect timing, Your Highness!”Madame said cheerfully, as if she didn’t have his daughter in a tight grip. “You see, a few days ago, your daughter came to me, saying she’d _love_ to go to the surface--you know, sight-seeing and all--and I told her I should make her a human permanently if she got these tow young men up there to kiss her. And she, having failed that, is now my slave. Unless…” she grinned mischievously. 

“Unless what?” King Valjean asked. 

“If you were willing to, let’s just say, step down from the throne, and took her place, then I may be willing,” Madame answered, holding Musichetta’s face close to her own. “Would you rather be king of the sea and all the oceans, or father to a poor unfortunate soul?” Musichetta, seeing now the witch’s real intention, tried to tell her father not to do it, telling him that Cosette still needed him and the kingdom couldn't go without him, but he handed over his trident without hesitation. 

Madame, now having the trident and crown in her power, released her prisoner and cackled. “Now I can control _everything!_ ” She waved the trident around, and a wave shot Valjean down to her cave, where he was to stay. “No one can stop me now--ow!” a harpoon shot through the water, wounding her shoulder. Musichetta looked up to see the silhouette of a fishing boat above them. Two faces were looking down at her.

“Did I get her?” Bossuet asked Joly. Madame, furious that someone should injure her, rose up in the water, and used the trident to create huge waves, crashing up and nearly unseating the men on the boat. 

“Drive into her side! It’ll kill her with enough force!” Joly shouted, and Bossuet grabbed the paddles and began rowing furiously at the witch. 

“I don’t think this is working,” Bossuet said as Madame perfectly aimed a tsunami-like wave directly at the boat.

The boat smashed against Madame's wicked blow, and the bow of the boat tipped up, dumping everything, including Joly and Bossuet, backward. The ship began to crumble into pieces, water leaking in from every hole. The two men on the boat struggled to get somewhere safe, but only Bossuet was lucky enough to find something to get on top of. Joly was left floating around in the freezing cold water, shivering.

Musichetta watched the boat to down, and with an unfathomable anger swam up to Madame and grabbed her wrist, wrenching the trident from her grasp. “ _Never_ touch them again!” She aimed a fierce blast of waves at her opponent, causing a vicious whirlpool.

“Aah!” Madame screamed as the whirlpool sucked her down into its depths.

The water began to calm down, so Bossuet was trying to find Joly in the water. “Joly! Joly! Where are you?”

“Here,” a soft voice said from next to him. There, bobbling in the water, shivering with very blue lips, was Joly.

Bossuet grabbed his hands and pulled him closer to his raft. “Come on, get on here, it's safer.”

Joly tugged Bossuet's hands closer, giving them a very cold kiss. “I... can't. Bossuet, what I said earlier... I didn't mean it. I don't know what I said, but... I am so sorry. I never wanted to do that to you.”

“I know, Joly. Now get on, there's space,” Bossuet explained, patting the space next to him. “You're freezing.”

“Bossuet… I can't feel anything,” Joly said slowly, “I'm completely numb. I'm… dying, Bossuet.”

“No, you are not dying. You are fine; just cold. We'll warm you up when we get back to the castle.” Bossuet was trying to not believe what Joly was saying, even though he was getting visibly weaker every minute. His voice began to sound angry as he ordered, “Get on this stupid door, Joly.”

Joly's voice was a little slurred and shaking as he said, “Just make sure… you and Musichetta survive, and are safe. Promise me that. Promise me you won't let go of that promise.”

Bossuet was sobbing uncontrollably. “I promise, Joly. I promise I won't let go. But this isn't going to be like that performance we saw where she promised him but she did let go. I'm holding onto you.” He hugged Joly close, burying his face in his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Joly whispered, his eyes closing gently. “Tell Musichetta that for…” His voice faded.

Musichetta could see that the pair were on the wreckage, and carefully maneuvered the trident to get them over to land. Madame's curse having died with her, King Valjean was free and swam up to see what happened.

When Musichetta saw her father coming, she handed the trident over. “I'm done with it.” She then went to a safe distance from land to make sure that Joly and Bossuet had made it. From where she was, it looked like Joly wasn't doing too good. She wanted to help, but she knew the rule that she had to stay far away from people.

Combeferre joined Valjean where he was watching Musichetta look over her princes. She looked very worried. Valjean went up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. He wove his trident, and produced a blanket. “Go warm them up. They aren't made for this kind of cold.”

“But what about the rule?” Musichetta asked.

“They're safe to be around. Besides, you're fairly responsible.” Valjean smiled at his daughter with pride.

Bossuet was on the shore, tapping Joly's face. “Come on, wake up.” He was beginning to feel a bit dry after all the crying he had done over the course of the past day. He lifted Joly's head, then said to no one, “I can't remember how to do it. After the three days of intense life-saving training, I can’t remember any of it. ”

“Wrap him up in this,” a sweet voice suggested. Bossuet raised his head to see Musichetta trying to pull herself out of the water with one arm. The blanket was draped over the other.

“You're alive!” He cheered, getting up and running over to help her. He was able to lift her fairly easily, hugging her as hard as he could. “I can't believe it. And you can talk.”

Musichetta nodded. “Could you set me down next to him?”

Bossuet carried her over to their unconscious lover, but accidentally dropped her hard on the ground. “Sorry.”

Musichetta unfolded the blanket and wrapped Joly's freezing body in it, resting his head against her shoulder. She petted his brown hair, pushing it away from his face and humming softly to him.

She was adjusting the blankets when Joly started to move a little bit and mumbled, “Musichetta?”

“I'm right here, Joly,” she answered with a smile, tugging the blanket down so he could breathe.

Bossuet, on the other hand, had a much less composed reaction. He launched himself from the sand on top of Joly and Musichetta, yelling, “Joly!--” kiss “--You're alive! I thought we had”--kiss-- “lost you!”

Joly swatted his face away feebly. “I'm not dead, I don't need to be resuscitated.” Musichetta responded simply by leaning over and giving each man a kiss herself. Joly grabbed her hands before she pulled away. “Don't leave again. Please? You're that missing piece in our lives. We love you.”

Bossuet hugged her again, begging, “Please, please, _please_?”

Musichetta looked at the ground. “You know I can't come with you, I have a tail. I wish I could, but…”

Bossuet sniffed for the seventh time that minute. “We don't want to lose you.”

Valjean and Combeferre were listening in. “She really does love them, doesn't she, Combeferre?” Valjean said.

Combeferre said, “You know, Your Majesty, I've said in the past that someday, young people grow up. Aand then they have to find their place in the world, wherever that might be.”

Valjean looked at him skeptically. “Have you ever said that?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Well, I did just say it, and that is in the immediate past, so I didn't technically lie.”

“Whenever it was… I suppose you're right. The only problem now is how much I'll miss her.” Valjean waved his trident at Musichetta, turning her tail into legs, to her surprise.

Valjean sighed sadly. “I won't know if she's alright up there. Wait,” Valjean looked at Combeferre, who's attention had been pulled away from the conversation to Courfeyrac and was waving awkwardly to him. “Would you be willing to be up there with her? Just make sure she's taken care of and she doesn't get hurt.”

Before Combeferre could answer, Valjean had turned him back into a person and lifted him onto land with a _thump._ He sat up and looked longingly at the water. “But he's down there.”

As if on cue, he heard Valjean say exasperatedly, “How many human transformations am I going to make with this thing?” then an airborne, human Courfeyrac was practically thrown into Combeferre's arms.

“Hello, baby! I told the king you might need help, so he let me come. I hope you don't mind,” he added quickly.

Combeferre's eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Of course I don't mind. Why would I mind?”

So Enjolras and Grantaire had their wedding. Enjolras surprised Grantaire by finding the exact wine he liked from the year they met like he had wanted, which Grantaire started crying over, hugging his new husband tightly and thanking him repeatedly. Cosette, wanting to be at her sister’s wedding, met Eponine and Marius, the royal staff, and one can guess how that went. Courfeyrac and Combeferre were very happy together, living in a little cottage nearby. 

At Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet’s wedding, Musichetta tossed her bouquet, and after all the trouble the ladies of the wedding party went through, it turned out Feuilly the cat had caught it and was quietly eating the roses, occasionally pushing some over to Bahorel, who was now unmuzzled and happy. So, in all ways, everyone lived happily ever after. 


End file.
